


Good Vibrations

by mrhd



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: Yennefer has custom made toys.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober Day 9 prompt: Pegging

Geralt is no a stranger to sex toys, not after the amount of time he has spent sexually frustrated and alone on the path. Over the years he’s had fake cocks and fake cunts alike. But Yennefer has toys even Geralt hasn’t encountered before, most of them enchanted and, he thinks, custom made.

The cock Yennefer is currently fucking him with can vibrate at different speeds. It changes speeds in a pattern that Geralt cannot determine. He wonders if Yennefer is controlling it, or if she’s just charmed it to be random.

Geralt grunts as the vibrations pick up in intensity, powerful against his prostate and against the stretched rim of his ass. He’s been more than prepared, with Yennefer’s long, elegant fingers first, and then with his own rough, thick ones beside them, but the cock is large, thicker than most real ones, and Geralt exalts in the feel, takes pleasure in the pain of the stretch, one that his body can’t heal right away, not between the vibrations shaking the sensitive skin apart and the power of Yennefer’s thrusts.

Behind him, he hears Yennefer gasp, and wonders what the vibrations feel like against her clit. If it’s anything like how they feel against his prostate…Geralt moans just at the thought.

The vibrations scale back and Geralt instinctively moves his hips, shoving his ass back against the false cock, eager for more stimulation.

Yennefer hums a little and leans forward, licking at the sweat on Geralt’s shoulders.

“Yen,” Geralt says, his voice a low growl. His cock is already dripping onto Yennefer’s fine sheets.

“It will come back,” Yennefer promises, slamming her hips in harder, deeper, to make up for the lack of vibrations.

Geralt groans and drops his head, watching. Watching his cock, fat and red and dripping, swaying, the head occasionally catching on what he thinks is real silk. Watching his hips move with Yennefer’s thrusts. Stretching his neck to see back even further, watching the smooth black dick go into his ass. The straps on it are white, because of course they are. Geralt grunts and shoves his hips back again, meeting Yennefer’s thrusts, chasing the cock.

“Impatient, Geralt,” Yennefer chides, but it’s belayed by the fact that she scrapes her nails along Geralt’s spine.

Geralt arches his back into it. The scrapes are light, leaving marks that will only last seconds, even though Geralt knows that Yennefer can draw blood when she wants. “Yennefer,” he pleads.

Yen ignores him, continuing the light scrape up, under his hair, to his neck, and then even further to his hair line, where she finally digs her nails into the thin, sensitive skin.

Geralt groans. “Yennefer,” he says again.

Yennefer scrapes her nails into his hair, scratching at his scalp.

The vibrations of the cock start up again, and Geralt moans helplessly, arching once more, tossing his head back for Yen’s nails, tilting his hips into the cock.

The cock reaches the punishing level that it hit before, and then it goes further, increasing to violent vibrations that would most likely be too much for a human to handle.

But Geralt revels in it. In the pain, in the stretch, in the punishing pace of Yennefer’s hips, in the pinpricks of pain where her nails dig in to his scalp, in the vibrations that make him feel as though he’s being shaken apart from the inside out.

And this time the vibrations don’t ease, they just continue, building to punishing.

Geralt makes a low, garbled sound, trying to match his hips to it still, uses his witcher reflexes and strength, flexing around the cock in his ass.

Yennefer’s other hand digs into Geralt’s hip, her hand tight enough to bruise, her nails drawing pricks of blood.

Geralt hopes that they’re deep enough to not heal right away.

Yennefer starts making sounds then, beautiful high gasps, which means that she’s getting close.

“Yen, harder,” Geralt gasps. He can tell his own orgasm is approaching, the heat pooling in his stomach, the pressure building in the base of his spine. Still neither of them have touched his cock, but he doesn’t need it. The occasional catch against cool silk is enough, and Geralt knows from experience that orgasms from his ass are always more shocky, like being punched in the gut. He craves it, can feel himself getting more eager at the thought.

Yennefer moans, beautiful, melodic, and Geralt groans in response, helpless not to, the sound rough and scraping.

The vibrations continue, shaking him apart from the inside, pounding against his prostate. Geralt moves his hips in time with Yennefer’s, both of them working the cock inside of him.

It doesn’t take long before Geralt is coming first, shouting into the silk sheets, ruining them with drool and come and fingers alike as he gasps through his open mouth, cock spurting long and hard, as his hands scramble for a hold in the smooth material.

Yennefer must come sometime during Geralt’s own orgasm, because one he’s aware of anything beyond the throb of his cock and the stretch of his ass, he can feel Yennefer bent over him, breathing uncontrolled, forehead pressed against Geralt’s back. She’s still for a few minutes before she presses a kiss to Geralt’s shoulders and pulls back, taking the now still cock out of Geralt’s ass.

Geralt groans, the stretch of it at once too much and a loss. He shivers a bit at it.

Yennefer strokes down his spine with her hand, warm and soothing and slides one long finger into his ass, just to the first knuckle, rubbing it in soothing motions.

Geralt makes a low noise in response and shivers for real.

Yennefer breathes, warm and sweet, against Geralt’s back for several long moments before she pulls back.

There’s the familiar wash of her magic, and then Geralt and the sheets are both clean.

Geralt huffs in amusement and collapses onto them, limbs heavy, body sated, and the smell of lilac and gooseberries already soothing him down. Yennefer lays beside him, and Geralt forces his eyes open, his mind awake, for just a little longer to look at her. Her beautiful face relaxed and pleased, the dark waves of her hair as wild as she, falling into her face, fanning out a dark halo on the pillow. Geralt puts a hand on her cheek and strokes it gently. He falls asleep to the feeling of Yennefer combing through the tangles in her hair with gentle fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @mrhdfic for Kink and Whumptober updates! Or just to chat.


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